


roses are falling for you

by thepinballer



Category: Oklahoma! - Rodgers/Hammerstein
Genre: Angry Pining, F/M, Pining, Unresolved Tension, is this who i am now, kind of, man i hate tagging. okay. here we go, thats not a tag but listen shes mad about being in love, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinballer/pseuds/thepinballer
Summary: smash that like button if you think sleazy, dirty, mangy, good-fer-nothin’ cowboys are......... kinda hot?
Relationships: Curly McLain/Laurey Williams
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	roses are falling for you

**Author's Note:**

> my dear friend is writing a fic called starlight and everyone should read it because i stole the whole "country song title" thing from her. also this looked SO MUCH LONGER on google docs :(

Corn fields stand dark against an orange and purple sky, the crickets accompanying the wind in song. A guitar joins in, gentle plucking becoming slow and lazy chord strumming. The porch creaks as Laurey walks out. Something sends a shiver down her spine- whether it’s the cold air or Curly’s crooning voice, she can’t say.

He pauses his playing when he hears the click of her boots against the wooden porch. He opens his eyes to meet hers, a lazy smile appearing on his face. “‘Lo there, Laurey. Whatchyu doin’ ‘round here?” he asks, a slightly tired tone hanging onto his words.

“Could ask you the same thing,” she answers as she pushes his feet off the little table before sitting in the chair across from him. “‘S gettin’ dark out. Shouldn’t you be runnin’ off back to some pigsty somewhere?”

He sets his guitar to the side and leans back in his chair, sprawling out like some lazy cat. One of his legs bumps hers- long legs and small tables don’t go well together. “Yer too mean to me- ain’t even gonna invite me in fer dinner!”

She rests her chin in her hands, bumping their ankles together under the table. “Already had dinner. Wanna come in fer dessert, though?”

“Slow down, Miss Laurey, I never said  _ that _ .” 

The chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards as Laurey stands up. “Alright, starve then.” She’s inside, heading towards the kitchen, before Curly can form a coherent complaint. The smell of cinnamon and baking apples is a relief, a sense of calm coming over her. She hates Curly. Hates everything about him. His smartass remarks, his obnoxious confidence, his arrogance, his annoying smile, his sad eyes, his mess of curls, his honey voice. The way her heart pounds and her stomach tangles up when he coos her name.

The front door swings open. She hates that too. 

“Ay, Laurey, y’bakin’ a pie or somethin’?”

She looks up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply. She’d love to get lost in the wood grain and never have to deal with this boy again. Never have to deal with any boy again. When she looks back, Curly’s leaning in the doorway like some sort of stray dog hoping for scraps. 

“Naw,” she starts, leaning back against the counter, “Just burnin’ up whatever patience for you I had left.”

He makes a hurt noise and throws a hand over his heart as he pulls a chair out from the kitchen table. “Daggers, Laurey, daggers.” He slumps down into the chair, spreading his legs out like he owns the damn place. He turns to the table’s centerpiece, a large smile brightening up his face. “Aw, thought you said you was gonna throw these out,” he says, seeming genuinely touched. He gently reaches out to the roses, the petals bending at his touch. His eyelashes flutter and his smile fades into something sweet and thoughtful.

“Those from you?” she asks as nonchalantly as she can. “Thought they was from somebody relevant _. _ ” She puts in as much bite as she can muster, but Curly carries on smiling and petting at the rose petals.

“Knew you’d like ‘em. Saw ‘em an’ I thought of you. Prettiest flowers they had.” He pauses and looks at her, his dark eyes glittering like he knows something she doesn’t want anyone to know. “You ain’t one to throw away somethin’ pretty, are you?”

She pushes off the counter, lazily stepping towards him. “I dunno. Maybe. Maybe if that somethin’ was a sleazy, dirty, mangy, good-fer-nothin’ cowboy, I’d throw him right out, no matter how pretty he looked.” 

He leans in with a smile, putting himself much too close for comfort. Close enough to see the brown in his dark eyes. Close enough to see every scraggle in his thick eyebrows. Close enough for every stray hair, every little freckle, every wrinkle from his smile, every long eyelash. His eyes flicker down for a moment, and he draws in a breath-

A timer goes off. His voice is barely there when he speaks.

“Pie’s ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to the kind people of the oklahoma tag for reading this, by which i mean sasha, who has already read it anyways


End file.
